The Gypsy Queen (44 page)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Morning intruded upon Bastion, fully unwelcome. He had paced the floor into the night. Played his drum on the balcony. Whatever he could, as sleep eluded him. At some unknown hour he had dozed off, but it was only a restless sleep that left him cursing the dawn.

  He wandered down the hall slowly to the galley, wearing some kind of robe. He only bothered because of the damned morning chill. The smell of coffee emanated from the galley, offering a scrap of comfort, as Bastion headed for it.

  The girls all stopped their activity, as the King entered the galley. It was very early, and normally, they would have brought breakfast to the King in his chambers. Mille, the jester, greeted him.

  “Good morning, King Bastion,” she offered. Bastion looked at her blankly. He looked around, and found Della standing nearby.

  “Coffee,” he said, looking at her. Della looked back at Mille, and then went to serve him. All the girls knew what had happened. The gates closing last night was big news, and news such as this did not escape those that worked in the palace.
Yana
had left. Mille felt bad for Bastion. He did not look well. He had openly displayed a deep love for her, and it was clear that his pain would run even deeper.

  Della hustled over with a steaming hot cup of coffee, and offered it to her King, not daring to look him in the eye. She retreated, as he took a sip, ignoring everything else. He stared into the coffee, and took another sip. The flavor reminded him of
Yana
, as they had had coffee together on his tower.

  “King Bastion, are you well?” Mille asked. Bastion gave her another blank stare. He liked Mille. Always had. But now, she had
Yana
’s face. She had danced with
Yana
. She was
Yana
’s friend.

  “Are you?” Bastion said with a touch of hostility. “Are you all well?” he bellowed at the girls, as they all stood frozen.

  “We are well, your majesty,” Mille said, trying to remind him to act like
a
King before his subjects. “Back to work, girls,” Mille said. Bastion was going to override her and scold her, and then lost interest, going back to staring at his coffee. The girls al
l got back to their work,
uncomfortable with Bastion’s erratic presence. Mille came closer.

  “I know you are hurting, your majesty,” Mille said in a hushed tone. “You don’t have to say anything... but maybe just for today, you could use more rest.” She was overstepping her bounds, but she really wanted to help the young King. Bastion looked her right in the eye.

  “You are a gypsy, yes?” Bastion said.

  “Yes, your majesty,” Mille answered.

  “Are you a prisoner of this palace?” Bastion asked.

  “No, your highness.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing here?” Bastion growled quietly.

  “King Bastion,” Otta said with surprise, entering the galley. He had heard the news, too.

  “Good morning, Uncle Otta,” Bastion said with contempt. Otta was unprepared to address the King so early.

  “I, uh...” He started, not sure what to say.

  “Do not speak to me,” Bastion said with conviction. Otta was taken aback.

  “I am sorry, my King,” Otta tried to respond.

  Crash! Bastion threw his hot clay cup full of coffee directly at him, forcing Otta to duck. It shattered against the wall behind him, as Otta looked at him in shock.

  “I said do not speak to me!” Bastion boomed at him. The whole room froze again. Mille intervened.

  “Please, your majesty, come with me,” she said, taking his hand. Bastion did not resist. He knew he was not well at all, and that Mille was saving him from further embarrassment. They walked past Otta, into the palace halls, and Mille led him to the King’s chambers. Bastion entered in, and Mille shut the door.

  Bastion sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, thinking of his beloved gypsy girl. Thoughts of other things came into his head- his job... his citizens... his responsibilities. He wished he could dwell on them, but
Yana
invaded his every thought, every sinew. He could not make it stop.

  Bastion looked up at the sound of his door opening. It was Della. She let herself in, and came over to Bastion with a small urn of coffee, and two cups. She sat next to him on the floor, and poured them both a cup.

  Della handed him a cup, feeling so bad for the King. His eyes were red, and his face displayed so much pain she could feel it herself. Bastion took a drink, and looked at Della with a nod of thanks. Della sipped hers too, sitting in silence next to the King. She had no idea how to comfort a King, or what to say to him at all, so she said nothing. She played with a straggling thread on the hem of her apron, and looked down. She didn’t even know what she was doing there, and certainly did not belong there. She just didn’t want him to be alone. They drank coffee together in total silence, and Della refilled their cups until the coffee was gone.

  Della got up, finally, and collected the urn and cups. She gave a sympathetic smile to Bastion, who wasn’t even looking at her, and then she kissed him lightly on the forehead. She left without a word, closing the door behind her. Bastion
sat alone, looking
at nothing, through the blurred vision of his eyes.

  “Don’t leave me,” he said out loud, drunk with pain.

  “Don’t leave me,” he said again. The birds chirped off in the distance beyond his window, oblivious to his quiet plea.

  “Don’t leave me,” he said in his privacy.
Yana
’s red and gold shawl hung on the wall, where she had left it behin
d. He got up and took it, and lay
on his
bed, letting it rest across his chest
.

  “Please don’t leave me,” he said, heard by no one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Hey,” Gunari whispered. “Get up.” He shook Draiman.

  “Huh? What?” he mumbled
. Draiman had slept on the ground to the side of
Yana
’s campfire. He had escorted her back to her caravan, and made sure she was put to bed in her wagon. He made the acquaintance of her friends, and offered to stay the night outside.

  “We got trouble. Hurry,” Gunari said. Draiman scrambled to his feet. T
he morning sun was shining
, as they scrambled away from the camps, where they would not be heard.

  “What the hell?” Draiman said.

  “They closed the gates,” Gunari said.

  “They what?”

  “The King has ordered the gates to close every night,” Gunari said.

  “Why?” Draiman demanded, immediately realizing the answer.
Yana
. “Damn it,” he said.

  “Degonyat is close!” Gunari continued. “He wants to see you right away!”

  “Ugh,” Draiman thought, trying to clear his head. “Close? Where?”

  “About five or six miles south of the meadows.”

  “His whole army?”

  “No, no, they are not all in place yet. Still some troops marching,” Gunari said.

  “Good, good.”

  “Not good. They are bringing catapults now, in case they have to assault the city. He is furious!” Gunari said. “He wants to see you!”

  “
Mulo baxt
,” Draiman cursed. “Where’s our horses?”

  Draiman and Gunari traveled to the place Gunari said the army would be. Sure enough, there were troops assembled, already encamped. Not many, Draiman counted in his head. There was still time. They went to the tent on the west fringe of camp, where Degonyat was set up. He emerged, his huge eyebrows looking as surly as his voice sounded.

  “What have you done?” he demanded.

  “What? It’s not my fault!” Draiman protested.

  “You said your man was going to make sure we had a clean shot!” Degonyat said.

  “We did! I mean, he was!”
Draiman said.

  “Where is your man?” Degonyat demanded.

  “I will find him. I will talk to him.”

  “You have to find us another way. I don’t know if a siege will work. I will lose too many men,” Degonyat said. “My scouts tell me that the King has fortified the walls with outposts.”

  “Yes,” Draiman sighed. “I hate that son of a dog,” Draiman spat on the ground as he said it.

  “Can we trust your man? Is he behind this closing of the gates?” Degonyat said.

  “No, no, he is not behind it. The King closed the gates because his little gypsy girlfriend left him,” he said.

  “What do you know of her?” Degonyat asked.

  “I know plenty,” Draiman said. “I used to ride with her. She was drunk last night, and I kissed her,” Draiman laughed. “She is a sweet treat.”

  “Can we use her?” Degonyat said. “Is there another way into the city?” Draiman lit up with an idea.

  “Brilliant,” Draiman said. “If there is another way into the city, she may know it.”

  “Will she tell you?” Degonyat said.

  “She will tell me,” Draiman said, his voice full of evil. “If I cannot seduce it out of her, I will beat it out of her.”

______________________

The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 26- “solace”

  Bastion sat in his throne room, alone. His crown sat in its enclave, next to the queen’s crown. He stared at them, until he could look no longer. He sat, and he waited, hour after hour. Palace stewards came and went, and asked questions. Otta came in to see him, and Bastion answered him without emotion or interest, sending him on his way.

  He was King, and he would do his job as King. Even on the throne, he was isolated and alone. He could talk to no one. Otta should have been his closest confidant, but Bastion did n
ot trust him
. In fact, Bastion realized, there was
no one
for him to reach out to. No one who would understand, no one
with
whom he could
afford vulnerability. With e
ach passing hour on his throne, he could feel himself turning to stone. He turned away food, and poured his water out on the periwinkle. The day passed, and the city’s business concluded as evening set in. Bastion remained, for lack of anywhere better to go. 

  “King Bastion,” Nico and Nathaniel strode into the room. Bastion sat up. He missed his friends. He wanted to be out riding with them in black.

  “What is it, my brothers?” The look on their faces showed urgency.

  “There may be military action afoot,” Nico said.

  “What action?” Bastion said.

  “Men have assembled at
Tatu
Castle
in the Lower Reach.”

  “Men from where?”

  “We think they are Moldavians,” Nico said. “We think they are from Kaffa.” Bastion nodded.

  “Do you think it was that man that escaped the boat?” Bastion had been thinking of him.

  “Could be. He
likely
knew who we were.”

  “I want you to keep a close eye, and find out everything you can. Keep the black riders close to the city.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Nico said.

  “King Bastion,” Nathaniel spoke up, “Did you not have this information already?”

  “I had my suspicions,” Bastion said, “but no reports. Why?

  “We have already reported all this to Otta,” Nathaniel said. “He told us to report directly to him. We thought he would have passed along our reports.” Bastion thought about that, scrunching his brow.

  “From this moment, you report only to me, not to Otta,” Bastion said.

  “What if Otta asks of us?” Nico said.

  “Tell him nothing. Tell him all is well.” Bastion said. Nico and Nathaniel looked at each other.

  “Boys, we have known each other since we were children. We have ridden together, and fought together.”

  “Yes
,
Sire,” they both answered.

  “And now, I am the King of
Jedikai
,” Bastion said. “There is something brewing, and Otta may be involved. We cannot trust him until we know. Understood?”

  “Yes
,
Sire,” they said.

  “Otta may not be the only one involved,” Nico added. “You remember those two gypsy girls that we pulled out of that forest fire? The ones that said that some of the slave traders were gypsies?”

  “Yes,” Bastion said.

  “We think that the Ursari gypsies may be involved.”

  “I do not fear any kind of gypsies,” Bastion said, confused. He looked into the faces of the two men, his life-long friends.